


Lights, Camera, Strike A Pose

by teacup-occamy (tinyshoopuf)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, a bit of childlike conspiracy, a bit of teasing, innocent playfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 20:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10199069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyshoopuf/pseuds/teacup-occamy
Summary: "I can't imagine ever being considered 'Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor'.""Yeah, they seem to have mixed you up with Theseus."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this picture  
> https://teacup-occamy.tumblr.com/post/158176805965/so-i-saw-this-and-just-had-to-sketch-it-im

“I’m so sorry this is taking so long, just bear with me for a few more moments and I should have everything ready to go,” the photographer told them, running fingers smudged with flash powder through his slicked back hair.

Newt stood behind a desk that was not his own in an office that was also not his own. Tina was perched lightly on that same desk, idly tapping at the keys on the shiny typewriter that had been placed for use in the promotional photos they were there to shoot. The man from the _Daily Prophet_ was frantically trying to set up all his equipment so things could commence, but somehow everything seemed to have been packed in all the wrong compartments.

“No rush,” Newt said congenially, though Tina had to smile, knowing that he was dreading the coming photoshoot. The camera made him uncomfortable and his captured self tended to hang about the edges of the frame unless someone else was there to drag him out. Even in their wedding pictures he somehow managed to be half hidden behind her at all times.

The typewriter clicked as Tina accidentally pressed too hard on one of the keys, the mallet swinging up to emblazon a black, lowercase letter ‘d’ on the previously pristine paper.

A playful mood passed between the couple as they shared a grin, traces of guilt evident in the smiles and the glances they threw back at the photographer, who was currently very engrossed in sorting through a case of lenses. With an air of childlike conspiracy, Newt carefully extracted the paper, turning and flipping it so that the evidence of their escapades was fed back into the machine and out of site. He beamed triumphantly at Tina, who silently cheered, basking in the innocent glee of their game.

A bright flash and the sound of a shutter interrupted their moment and they each swiveled around to stare, a bit startled, at the hitherto distracted reporter. His large, watery eyes peaked from behind the device he’d finally managed to set upon its tripod, protective curtain pushed back to reveal him.

“Test shot,” he said, with a wry grin. “Just making sure the flash was working properly. I believe I’m ready to get started, if you are?”

The article, detailing the release of the second edition of Newt’s book as well as all the critical acclaim the initial run had accumulated, appeared a week later. Tina was just hanging a framed copy on the wall, admiring the lovely image of him seemingly hard at work, when the real thing walked through the door. His hands were clutching what looked like a magazine and his face was lit with amusement, which he seemed desperate to share with her. Without preamble, he spread the cover for her to see and she let out a laugh as she read the headline.

_Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor Off The Market?_

Beneath the bold script was that test picture the man from the _Prophet_ had snapped. As she watched, her image reached up to poke Newt’s nose with a pencil while he grinned down at her, batting playfully at her hand. She had to admit, she rather liked photo. The headline, however…

“So, you’re ‘Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor’?” 

“I don’t think the author of that article understands what either ‘eligible’ or ‘bachelor’ means, since I am neither.”

“Well, look who wrote it,” she said, angling the magazine so he could see the signature scrawled at the end of the article. “Beatrice Skeeter does have a habit of taking non-news and spinning it into something sensational.”

“Mm, you have a point. Still, I can’t imagine ever being considered ‘Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor’.”

“Yeah, they seem to have mixed you up with Theseus.”

He gaped at her in mock indignation as she laughed, rising from her seat to pull him into a hug. He made a token resistance, before grinning and returning the embrace, shifting the conversation to discuss what they should do for dinner that night.


End file.
